


Spring Dream

by Ziane



Category: Founder of Diabolism, The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Almost Kiss, Boys In Love, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 19:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18267485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: The disciples prepare one of the infamous exams of Lan Qiren.





	Spring Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Happy SangCheng day ♡〜٩(^▿^)۶〜♡  
> If you missed part one, you can read it here: [Sleeping Beauty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18110225)
> 
> PS: Every day is SangCheng day.

A huge blanket lay spread on the greenish grass of the back mountain between chirping birds and hopping bunnies, oblivious to the worries of the youths. Three disciples in the white garments of the Gusu Lan Sect chose a quiet clearing to prepare for tomorrow. Nie Huaisang flips pages between sighs, utterly bored. Right beside him, Jiang Cheng lies on his stomach, a hand cradling his face, his elbows framing the book while he studies, and Wei Wuxian insisted on hunting pheasants in the borders of Gusu and his books are carelessly littering the place.

With a thump, Nie Huaisang falls onto his back and exhales his frustration into the tiny slit of blue sky he can glimpse through the treetops and the spring-like day they are wasting because Lan Qiren will test them tomorrow. The subject of their despair names _The Origins of the Cultivation World and its_ _Sects_. To Nie Huaisang, a bunch of names, sects, impossible to remember maxims, and a myriad of other silly details that will have no use in his future life as the Second Master of the Nie Sect. His brother beholds the excellence of the Qinghe Nie Sect in his frame, his swordsmanship, and his stiffness while he’s the idle second brother that will happily assist him but desires not to wield a sword or shed blood if he can avoid it.

Nie Huaisang perches the opened book on his chest and turns his head about, glancing at Jiang Cheng and the adorable frown between his eyebrows that always appears when he’s focused. Speaking of the excellence and handsomeness of the future leader of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, a leader worth a glance or two, a friend that carried him in his arms after a night out carousing and tucked him in bed without the goodnight kiss he craved. A shy smile pulls the corners of his mouth upward.

Another deep sigh gets Jiang Cheng’s attention, but Nie Huaisang opens his fan with a twist of his wrist and covers the sinless smile stretching his lips. He glances at Nie Huaisang, meeting those hazel eyes that outshine the sun this afternoon. Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “What is it? Study or you’ll fail again.” The words come out meaner than he intended, but Nie Huaisang’s tender expression and the boyish smile hidden behind a convenient barrier rattles him from head to toe. He fans himself lazily, allowing a glimpse of his features as if they were a window to his hidden intentions.

“I’m tired.” At the weary pout that follows and suggest the plumpness of his lips, Jiang Cheng peruses over the book even if his interest lays elsewhere now, his mind conquered and defeated by the object of his dreams since he realized among all the things he ever desired he now wanted those lips under his own. The realization struck him a few nights ago, but his stomach churns and his heart gallops against better judgment. “I can’t learn all these names…”

“You can.” His voice reveals nothing of his inner turmoil, but his fingers tremble while flipping the pages. _Just where the hell is Wei Wuxian?_

“But I don’t want to,” Nie Huaisang retorts. He tucks an arm behind his head, his fan offering a cooling breeze meanwhile. The book on his stomach falls between them useless and forgotten. “Who cares who founded what sect and how many sons they had?” Jiang Cheng snorts. “Even the names of their swords! I don’t even carry mine with me!”

“You should,” Jiang Cheng says distractedly.

“What for?” Nie Huaisang quips. “Who knows if I’ll fly through the skies one day.” Jiang Cheng bites his tongue, pondering whether to apologize to him or play it down. For every cultivator of their age, to form a golden core and nurture it with daily training is a prideful requirement. Not to Nie Huaisang. “Not that it really matters,” he says with an honest smile, flicking his fan shut and patting Jiang Cheng’s shoulder with it to ease his worrisome furrow. After a shared smile, Jiang Cheng returns to his book as he tries to make sense of the ocean of names while Nie Huaisang grants him occasional sidelong glances until he just stares unabashedly at his noble features, the sharpness of his jaw, the manly beauty of his lips and the profile of his nose.

Worrying at his lower lip, Nie Huaisang wonders how would Jiang Cheng look with his hair down and flustered, perhaps after an innocent brush of the lips, a kiss, or -hopefully- a thousand… The warmth of the sun, the gentle breeze, and the comfort of the company trick him into a pleasant slumber. His lids heavy, his hands weakened, his breathing steady as Nie Huaisang unavoidably dozes off, not even keeping track of his daydreaming. Why is it that lately he always falls asleep thinking about Jiang Cheng and hoping to dream of him?

The folding fan taps his forearm as it escapes Nie Huaisang’s limp grip. Upon glancing at the sleeping beauty, Jiang Cheng’s heart stops at a halt only to recover a few heartbeats after. A feeling of déjà vu envelopes him at those parted lips and sun-kissed cheeks. As if now he couldn’t slide his gaze away, Jiang Cheng closes the book and reclines on one elbow, mesmerized by the lavishing beauty in white peacefully dozing off beside him.

During morning readings, Jiang Cheng shies often while trying to sneak a glance at him over his shoulder, fearful to find his eyes looking back at him, and even more fearful not to find them. He swallows a lump, his throat suddenly dry. Nie Huaisang looks dreamy in white and blue, his garments billowing around him in staged perfection, his cheeks rosy and his lips plump. His chest heaves in a steady rhythm that has nothing to do with his own thumping heart.

After a quick peek at the surroundings, Jiang Cheng stretches a trembling hand, hesitant but decided to brush away the strand of black hair disturbing his face. Gingerly, he tucks the rebellious lock behind his ear and gasps. “And you called _me_ handsome…” His mouth swings into a dopey smile. On his own free will, his knuckles trace the outline of his jaw from the pouty chin to the shell of his ear. After a subtle trembling, Nie Huaisang knits his eyebrows and Jiang Cheng freezes, but like a sudden gust of the wind, Nie Huaisang’s expression relaxes and, deeming him asleep, he cups his face with a slightly clammy hand.

It’s soft and tender as ripe fruit, warmed by the sun, slightly pink as if he was blushing. Jiang Cheng’s heart pounds into his chest as if getting used to this was not an option. He feels somehow like a thief, like the other night when he was a breath away to steal a kiss and store it in his heart forever. His mouth parts in a hearty gasp. He traces those velvety lips with his thumb in a feather-like caress, feeling the red come up his cheeks at the thought of kissing them, touching them with his own, but then the distant thought turns into a desire to kiss _him_ , to touch _him_ , to feel his breath wheezing into his mouth as it brushes now against his thumb. It’s not so much about the lips but their owner.

Nie Huaisang opens his eyes and glances at him behind hooded lids and a feigned sleepy gaze that suggests more than a brief nap in the open. “Cheng-xiong?” he mumbles, his lips bumping into his finger as he speaks. Jiang Cheng’s expression goes from enchanted to full panic in a matter of seconds. He yanks his hand away, leaps on his feet and clears his throat distractedly.

“I need to go.” Without looking back, he strides his way back to the Lan residence while mumbling curses and sporting a beet-red complexion that has nothing to do with the sun. Embarrassment churns his stomach as much as cowardice.

After a disappointed sigh, Nie Huaisang strokes his own lips and straightens. Jiang Cheng disappears behind the trees and he has a mixture of feelings rambling in his heart. “Oh, I thought…” Many things crossed his mind while he was half-asleep, and one of them was Jiang Cheng’s mouth over his own. Lost in wishful thinking, he winces when an overjoyed figure rests a hand over his shoulder.

“I snared two rabbits,” Wei Wuxian says with a big grin.

Nie Huaisang flicks his fan open and a gentle breeze cools his flustered complexion. “I had one too, but he got away…”

Wei Wuxian’s laugh resounds in the clearing. “You need to be wide awake to catch that rabbit,” he advises. “And even then, he might bite you back instead.”

“Oh!” It comes out deliciously desperate. “I wish…” Nie Huaisang fans himself faster to appease the heat on his cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) ♡   
> Lately, I've been feeling down and these boys always cheer me up. I... I wanted to write a kiss, I swear.... xDDDDDDDD My brain is trolling me! (੭ ˃̣̣̥ ω˂̣̣̥)੭ु⁾⁾


End file.
